


I grew resistant

by captainstarspangled



Category: Antoine Griezmann - Fandom
Genre: Crying, Cute, Cutting, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Gay, Gay Male Character, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Men Crying, Mental Instability, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-25
Updated: 2016-09-30
Packaged: 2018-08-17 05:30:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8132219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captainstarspangled/pseuds/captainstarspangled
Summary: "How can you care so little about yourself?”“I used to.” “What happened?”“I grew resistant.”“We’ll figure this out. I’ll help you.”





	1. Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so just so everyone knows: This features self harm, so be warned. I do not support this in any way.

Olivier heard Antoine stir awake on the bed next to the lounge chair he was laying on, so he opened his eyes. It was 6am and he’d been awake for a few minutes. His throat was still a little sore and his eyes were burning, but he still opened them again.   
“Where am I?”, Antoine asked, clearly confused.   
“In the hospital, you broke your leg during the game yesterday and passed out,” Olivier informed him carefully and Antoine lifted his blanket to check on his leg. That’s when he noticed what he was wearing: One of those hospital shirts. He looked at his arms in shock and quickly moved to cover himself beneath the blanket again.  
“It’s okay,” Olivier told him. “I saw them.” He were referring to the several cuts and burns on Grizi’s arms; The doctor had informed him about them the night before.  
Antoine had been wearing long-sleeved shirts for the past few weeks but he was one to get cold quickly so Olivier hadn’t especially been worrying because of that. And sex… Well they didn’t have it a lot because Antoine was shy and if they did, it’d be in the dark and focus would lie down there. But now that he knew, he felt stupid.  
“Oh,” Antoine said. Olivier saw his hand starting to tremble beneath the blanket.  
“I’m not going to force you to tell me about it now, but I’ll want to know why you did it.” When Olivier had first heard about his boyfriend’s self harm activities from the doctor, he had cried. And he was close to doing it again. It just showed him how many times he should’ve been there when he wasn’t. And it made him feel like shit.  
“I… I mean.” He could see the boy trying to form words. “I can’t. I’m…” And he saw Antoine’s face fall and the boy looked out of the window. “I’m sorry,” he said in such a horse and broken voice that Olivier’s heart started aching again, and this time with the power of a wrecking ball.   
“No. Don’t you dare apologize. This is not your fault Grizi,” Olivier reassured him because that was what the doctor had told him. “And I’m not going to let you promise me you won’t do it again. I want you to talk whenever you feel down, or angry, or upset.” The man had been doing research all night long and he knew that what most people thought, that people who do that do it for attention, was definitely wrong.  
“It’s just…” he started, “I can’t control it.” He wasn’t crying like Olivier was now. He’d grown used to hurting himself and he still thought that he deserved it. He’d done it all his life: Pinching his skin as a toddler, punching himself as a child and cutting and burning himself ever since he’d been 14. And he’d stopped caring. The little scars from ten years ago were long healed and he felt lost without them. Actually, he was only apologizing to Olivier, not to himself.  
“I know. That’s why I want to help you.”   
Antoine nodded. The only problem here was that in fact, he didn’t want his boyfriend to help him. He’d been fine with hiding them. It had been his little secret. But now that it wasn’t anymore, he felt stupid. And he wanted to punish himself for letting people see because the nurses and the doctor must’ve seen them too. And soon the press would know what a desperate little shit he was because he couldn’t manage his emotional unsteadiness.   
Olivier got up and walked over to him. Antoine held on tightly to the bed cover so that Olivier wouldn’t even think of lifting them, but he did anyway. “Come on, let me see again.” After a while of them pulling around at the blanket, Antoine gave up and Olivier pulled it away.  
He took the youngster’s forearm into his hands. He pulled it close to his face and then started planting kisses on every single scar there was.   
Antoine felt tears falling on his arm while he was being kissed by the man. “You shouldn’t have to deal with this, I can do it alone,” he said just to calm his conscience because well, he did feel bad about the tears that were being shed by Olivier here. But he just couldn’t bring himself to feel bad about himself right now.   
“Obviously you can’t,” Olivier lifted his head and it gave a sting to Antoine’s heart to see the redness in his boyfriend’s eyes.   
“Neither can you! No one can,” he said angrily because this whole situation made him angry. And it made him even more angry when Olivier started crying harder because Antoine couldn’t control his rage. “I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s just... I’ve tried to stop. I really have. It’s just not that simple. And I have scars anyways.”  
“No, you’re right.” Olivier’s voice was croaky. “I just don’t understand… How can you care so little about yourself?”  
“I used to.”   
“What happened?”  
“I grew resistant.”  
“We’ll figure this out. I’ll help you.”

Part 2 following!


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Olivier takes Antoine home after a short stay at the hospital and they share a nice day together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly never meant for this to have more than 2 parts but they simply grew too long. I'm so worried about Antoine only ever wearing long sleeved shirts. Honestly, writing this thing made me so sad because I know it might be possible. (Not that crazy though). I swear if he's gonna wear a long sleeved jersey on Sunday I'll cry. 
> 
> Side note: There's a boy in my school and he looks so much like Antoine and ugh..... Comment for a picture of him lol.

It was two days later when Antoine was released from the hospital and taken back to his and Olivier’s shared flat in Paris. Olivier was carrying all of the boy’s belongings while Antoine was hobbling to the car on crutches.   
It was summer and Antoine’s boyfriend had only given him a shirt, some slippers and shorts. Nothing to cover his forearms. Unnecessary to say that Antoine was feeling super uncomfortable once he sat down next to Olivier. He crossed his arms in front of his chest as for them not to be seen too obviously in case there would be paps around.  
“Stop that,” Olivier said once they’d turned on the main road.   
“Stop what?” Antoine asked, annoyed.   
“Covering your arms. No one will see.” Olivier’s eyes were focused on the road, which made Antoine even more frustrated.  
“I’m cold,” he said and rubbed at his forearms to make that statement more obvious.  
“You’re not. It’s 30 degrees outside,” Olivier said, still focused on the road. Antoine not being able to cover his arms had been a suggestion made by a psychiatrist, not by him. And it was hard for him too, not just for Antoine because he hated seeing those scars.  
“I am! Just let me have a jacket or something,” the boy requested in an angry voice and looked the other way.   
“Look. I don’t like this either okay?! It’s this or fucking therapy sessions! And I know little Antoine wouldn’t like that either so just fucking deal with it!”  
This made Antoine shut up for a moment. He had never really had an argument with Olivier, let alone heard the man curse. And it made him angry that he’d messed up once again, bringing furious tears to his eyes. Olivier noticed the boy’s silence and looked over. Antoine was leaning against the passenger door, arms put into his shirt and looking smaller than ever.   
“Look,” Olivier started after a while. “I didn’t mean to upset you or anything. I just don’t know what to think about this.” Antoine could see the tired look on his face and he knew the man hadn’t slept well, if he’d slept at all, in the past 2 days. He scratched at one of the pink burns on his wrist, which was what he usually did when he was nervous.  
“You don’t have to think anything about it. I was okay and I still am. Had it been bad I would’ve told someone.” He looked back at Olivier, whose eyes were still fixed on the road.   
“How long has this been going on?” Olivier asked when he turned onto the highway. The man’s voice was barely audible; He was close to tears again.  
Antoine was quiet for a while. “I don’t think I should- “  
“That’s not what I asked you,” Olivier interrupted in a stern voice. He wanted to know right now, he would not give Antoine time to think about this question and make the situation sound milder.   
“Okay. I started using… objects on myself… When I was about 13 and we moved to Spain.” He would not tell Olivier about before that. That would only upset the man more. He could see that his boyfriend was trying not to cry.   
They were only a few minutes away from their flat now and he didn’t want to cause a scene.   
Once they arrived on their floor of the newly built apartment building, Antoine went, or rather hobbled, to their room and took off his shorts and shirt. He was looking through the closet when Olivier entered, the suitcase in his hand. “What are you doing?”  
“Oh,” Antoine said and turned around. He had an Atletico Madrid sweatshirt in his hand now. “Just getting changed.” He put it on and felt a dozen times better with long sleeves.  
“Antoine I…” Olivier started and sat down on the bed. “I talked to a psychiatrist.”  
Antoine turned around, making big eyes. “Do you really think that was necessary?” He sat down next to Olivier.   
Olivier raised his eyebrows. “Is that a serious question? Have you seen your arms?”   
“Yes but… I haven’t killed myself. Or tried to.” Antoine was not suicidal. And that was simply a confirmation for him that he in fact didn’t need a psychiatrist.   
“Babe. Do you really think you only need a psychiatrist if you’re suicidal? You’re hurting. I don’t want you to do that for the rest of your life. Please,” Olivier’s voice was pleading and broken and for the second time today, Antoine knew his boyfriend was about to cry.   
“Don’t,” Antoine said and put a hand on the man’s thigh. The boy looked at Olivier thoroughly. The first tear left his eye just moments after that. Within seconds, they were hugging, Antoine on Olivier’s lap and the man’s face buried deep in his sweatshirt. Grizi was stroking the back of his boyfriend’s head. “You know I can’t promise you I will stop.” This was part of his life now and he couldn’t imagine living without hurting himself.   
“I know,” Olivier said and lifted his face out of Antoine’s sweatshirt. He wiped at his eyes. “I’m sorry.” He stroked Antoine’s back. “But you’re my little boy and I want to take care of you. Please allow me to.”  
“Okay,” Antoine said simply because he was tired of fighting and because he couldn’t stand seeing the man he loved upset.  
“Thank you,” Olivier said and Antoine remained silent. “Harry Potter marathon?” The man suggested after a while and got an eager nod as an answer. It was early afternoon, so they would be able to watch a few of the films today. “I’ll prepare the snacks and you can go set up the TV.”  
And they did just that. Antoine was finished after about a minute because well… There wasn’t really a lot to do, so he decided to go to the bathroom before they’d start. That turned out to be the worst idea he’d had all day because once he’d arrived in the bathroom, he saw the cabinet above the sink, in which there was his toiletry bag, in which there were his blades.   
And he couldn’t resist taking one out and sliding it across a clean part of his left forearm. He’d needed this. He hadn’t been able to relieve from all the stress and the sadness and the anger in about 3 days. That usually wouldn’t be a problem, he could go weeks without hurting himself but at the moment, the time was simply too stressful and with Olivier finding out about this, he felt lost. He cut himself another two times and then cleaned the wounds; They weren’t big and stopped bleeding after a few seconds. Nevertheless, they left light red scars that looked obviously new, he would just have to keep the sweatshirt on.   
He discreetly hid all of the blades back in their box in the toiletry bag and joined Olivier on the couch, who had brought two buckets of ice cream, about 10 cans of soft drinks and a big bowl of popcorn.   
“Where were you?” He asked once the boy was sitting next to him.   
“The bathroom.”  
They passed the reminder of the day watching the Harry Potter movies and only got up to go to the bathroom. It was hitting midnight when Olivier saw Antoine’s eyelids growing heavier and heavier. “We should go to sleep,” he said and Antoine mumbled something no one could understand. So Olivier did the only thing plausible; He shut off the TV and carried the boy up to their bed because around his leg was still a cast.   
He took off Antoine’s sweatshirt and laid him down in bed, then shut off the room light, turned off his little nightstand light and laid down next to the boy.   
Antoine was falling asleep by now, not noticing Olivier checking out his arms.   
“What are those?”

**Author's Note:**

> To be continued.


End file.
